244-Cornerstone

In a grand circular chamber deep within the Uchiha compound, a meeting was taking place. The chamber's walls were adorned with tapestries and the symbol of the clan—three red tomoe circling a fan-like shape. Low candles flickered, casting long, wavering shadows across the faces of the assembled elders.

The room was thick with tension, the air heavy with a quiet storm brewing just beneath the surface. The crackle of the fire in the center hearth was the only sound for a long, tense moment as Daichi sat at the head of the long, stone table.

Daichi's dark hair, now littered with streaks of gray, was tied back in a traditional topknot, and his robe bore the intricate designs of the Uchiha symbol on his sleeves.

He had been through wars, and countless political battles, and the weight of leadership had settled into the deep lines on his face. But tonight, there was an agitation in the room that even he found difficult to quell.

At the table with him were the Uchiha elders, a group of men and women who had lived long lives and seen the rise and fall of many shinobi in Konoha and the shinobi world in general. They were the guardians of Uchiha tradition and history, and tonight they were far from pleased.

"This is intolerable, Daichi," Elder Masato growled, his voice gravelly with age but still commanding respect. His fists clenched on the table, the veins in his hands bulging as his anger simmered just below the surface.

"The village council has cut our funding yet again, and we are supposed to just accept this? They have no respect for the Uchiha!"

Elder Rina, sitting beside him, nodded sharply. Her long, silver hair cascaded down her back, and her sharp eyes were filled with disdain.

"We are the protectors of Konoha, Daichi. The police force, which they have so conveniently lumped together with the clan's finances, is the backbone of this village's security. And yet they treat us like second-class citizens. How long will we allow this to continue?"

Daichi remained silent, his eyes narrowing slightly as he listened to the growing chorus of discontent from the elders. His son, Fugaku, sat beside him, his arms crossed, watching the room with a calm but calculating gaze.

Fugaku was young, but even now his presence commanded attention—though he was quiet, his dark eyes missed nothing. He was still too young, perhaps too young for Daichi to place the burden of the Uchiha clan on his shoulders.

"I understand your frustrations," Daichi finally spoke, his voice calm but authoritative, cutting through the heated murmurs.

"But we must not act rashly. The village has suffered greatly after the last shinobi war. Resources are scarce, and the council is managing the recovery of the village. We are not the only ones facing cuts."

Masato slammed his hand on the table.

"Don't be naive, Daichi!" he spat.

"This is not about the previous war or economic recovery. This is about them keeping us in check. The Hokage, Danzo, and the rest of the council see us as a threat. They fear us, and this is how they keep us in line—by starving us of resources!"

Daichi's jaw tightened as Masato's words hit a nerve. He knew there was some truth to what the elder was saying. For years, the Uchiha clan had been kept at arm's length, despite their power and contributions to the village.

The founding of Konoha had promised unity, but the reality had been much different. The police force, established to give the Uchiha a place of authority, had turned into a gilded cage, a way to isolate them from true leadership in the village.

Rina leaned forward, her sharp eyes fixed on Daichi. "Our ancestors were coerced into joining Konoha under the promise of equality and respect. Yet where are we now? Our funding slashed and our influence diminished. Hashirama was understandable; he was the First Hokage and one of the strongest shinobi of his time. But what of Tobirama? And Hiruzen? Both of them passed over our clan as if we didn't exist."

Daichi's heart clenched at her words. He remembered those days vividly. After the death of the Second Hokage, Tobirama Senju, there had been talk of who would succeed him.

Daichi should have been a contender, or so he had thought. His strength and tactical genius had been second only to Uchiha Madara in his youth, and many had whispered that he was destined for greatness. But in the end, Hiruzen Sarutobi had been chosen as the Third Hokage.

'He was older,'

Daichi reflected, his eyes hardening slightly as he stared at the flickering flames of the hearth.

'More experienced,' people had said since Hiruzen operated closely to Tobirama.

But Daichi had shown as much promise as anyone else. Perhaps it was the lingering mistrust toward the Uchiha that had kept him from the position. And perhaps it was the same mistrust that had kept their clan sidelined ever since.

Yet Daichi had come to terms with that long ago. The weight of leadership within the police force had been a sobering one. It had shown him that perhaps becoming Hokage was not the path he had truly desired.

The endless responsibilities, and the political intrigue—it was more than enough for him to lead his clan and manage the police force. But even that was becoming increasingly difficult as the village's trust in the Uchiha started to erode.

"Resentment has been brewing for too long," Elder Masato continued, his voice rising with passion.

"We have been passed over time and time again. We accepted Hashirama as the First Hokage, but Tobirama? Hiruzen? No one from our clan was even considered! We are warriors, born and bred, with a history of strength that no other clan in Konoha can rival. And yet, we are treated like nothing more than servants."

Daichi's grip tightened on the arms of his chair. He knew this sentiment ran deep within the clan. He had heard whispers of it for years, and the elders were only giving voice to what many younger Uchiha were beginning to feel.

The divide between the village and the Uchiha was growing wider with every passing year, and the recent cuts to their funding were only fueling that resentment.

Fugaku finally spoke, his voice calm but laced with the same frustration that simmered throughout the room. "The village claims these cuts are necessary for economic recovery, but it is clear that they are targeting us specifically. The police force is our main source of income, and by cutting its budget, they are cutting the lifeline of the Uchiha."

Daichi nodded slowly, his mind racing as he considered his son's words. He had long been the voice of reason, trying to keep the peace between the village and his clan.

But even he was starting to lose faith in the village administration. The constant discrimination, the subtle but ever-present mistrust—it was wearing him down. How long could he continue to placate the elders and his own people before something snapped?

"We are still recovering from the war," Daichi said, trying once more to bring a sense of calm to the heated room. "The village is trying to rebuild. We must be patient."

But the elders were not swayed. Masato's eyes blazed with fury as he leaned forward, pointing an accusing finger at Daichi. "You're too soft, Daichi! Too willing to bend to their will. You lead this clan, but you do not stand up for it! We have been patient for years, and what has it gotten us? More cuts, more disrespect!"

Rina chimed in, her voice cold and sharp. "If we continue to sit idly by, we will be reduced to nothing. The Uchiha will become nothing more than a footnote in Konoha's history."

The murmurs of agreement from the other elders filled the room, growing louder and more aggressive with each passing second. Daichi could feel the tension rising, the anger building like a storm ready to break. He knew he had to act before things got out of hand.

"We should take action!" one of the younger elders called out, his voice trembling with barely concealed rage. "We should show the village that the Uchiha will not be pushed around any longer!"

Others echoed the sentiment, and Daichi's heart pounded as he realized the situation was spiralling out of control. His eyes narrowed, and a dangerous glint flickered in their depths.

"Enough!" Daichi's voice boomed across the room, silencing the rising tide of voices. The force of his words reverberated through the chamber, and for a moment, everything was still.

Suddenly, Daichi's Sharingan flared to life. The three tomoe that circled his pupils spun rapidly before shifting into an entirely new pattern—his Mangekyo Sharingan.

The once-simple design morphed into a complex kaleidoscope of swirling lines and jagged shapes, a testament to the immense power Daichi wielded. His eyes blazed with a deep, crimson light, and the sheer pressure of his chakra filled the room like an oppressive wave.

The effect was immediate. The elders, who had been so vocal moments before, fell silent, their faces pale. A few of them broke into a cold sweat, their breaths shallow as they felt the overwhelming presence of their clan head.

Daichi's voice was low, but it carried the weight of authority that could not be denied. "This is the end of the discussion," he said, his Mangekyo Sharingan burning in his eyes. "You will make do with the funds we have. There will be no further action against the village council."

No one dared speak. The sight of Daichi's Mangekyo Sharingan had silenced any argument they might have had. The elders lowered their heads in deference, knowing that they could never oppose Daichi when he wielded such power.

Many thought that Daichi's power over the clan was unnecessary and uncalled for, but it was that very power that held the Uchiha clan together and delayed their ruin for decades to come.

As the tension in the room dissipated, Daichi's adjourned the meeting and left the chamber. While Fugaku and his future sons, would grow to become exceptional shinobi in their own right, the origin of their strength and talent was evident. It was Daichi who had laid the foundation for the legacy of power that ran through their blood.

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